


A Larger Goal, next to normal AU

by ObjectPermanence



Series: next to normal AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Next to Normal - Kitt/Yorkey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crossover, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical, Multi, Self Harm, Sexual Frustration, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObjectPermanence/pseuds/ObjectPermanence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover between next to normal and Les Miserables.  Enjolras has a breakdown one morning, which leads to the Amis questioning how they handled the death of one of their own. Is Enjolras really the crazy one? Meanwhile Enjolras's twin sister, Cosette, has an odd relationship with a local boy named Marius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Larger Goal, next to normal AU

**Author's Note:**

> So, this took much longer than it should have....so I've basically split all of Act 1 of next to normal into 7 chapters. There should be at least one chapter each week, possibly two. Hopefully people actually enjoy this...kudos and comments give me motivation to write, and let me know that people actually enjoy my work. So if you want more chapters, click the kudos button. *sounds like an attention whore* -_- Sorry.

Enjolras walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he went. "Morning." He mumbled to Combeferre who was sipping some coffee from his Like A Boss mug. Most of the Amis shared a large flat, everyone except Joly and Bossuet, who lived with Musichetta down the street. 

"Morning. Up late working on homework again?" Combeferre asked as Enjolras began cracking eggs into a pan, and mixing pancake batter in a large bowl.

The golden haired boy sighed, "Yea, lots of papers to write, and protests to organize."

"You really just need to slow down. Take some time for yourself."

He snorted quietly. "I'll take time for myself when children in Africa stop dying of hunger."

"Speaking of dying of hunger, what's for breakfast?" Courfeyrac entered the kitchen, and leaned over Enjolras's shoulder. "Pancakes and eggs. I approve." He nodded before flopping down in his seat at the table.

Combeferre sat down next to Courfeyrac, finishing his coffee. "But really, I think I could hear your brain grinding away at 4am! You need to sleep."

"Or at least get laid." Courfeyrac interjected with his usual sarcastic tone, before laughing at his own joke.

Enjolras shook his head, "That won't be happening anytime soon. As I said before, too much stuff to do." He flipped a pancake onto a plate, added some eggs, and dropped it in front of Combeferre. He repeated the process, and a moment later delivered a plate to Courfeyrac. 

"Thanks!" Courfeyrac exclaimed before proceeding to shovel the scrambled eggs into his mouth like an animal.  "Feuilly! Put a shirt on!" He exclaimed as the worker emerged from his room and poured himself some coffee. 

The boy was wearing only his boxers, and had a towel slung over one shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom. "No! It wouldn't make sense to put clothes on, and then take them off two minutes later!" He yelled, walking backwards towards the shower.

"At least try to keep the singing to a minimum! You will never be the X-Factor!" Combeferre called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Feuilly gave him the finger and retorted, "Dude, there are two things that get to be free when I step into that shower! My balls, and my soul!" He cracked a sly smile, and shut the bathroom door behind himself. A few minutes later a poorly sung rendition of Defying Gravity came from the bathroom as Feuilly showered.

Grantaire sat down at the table, looking drunk as usual, just as Enjolras was finishing up with the eggs and pancakes. "Alright, come and get it. I'm going to make sandwiches for lunch. Any orders?"

"Peanut butter and Jelly!"

"Ham and cheese!"

"I second Bahorel on ham and cheese, add mustard!"

"Peanut butter and banana!"

"Turkey and cheddar please!"

Enjolras retrieved the bread and fillings as his friends ate their breakfasts, and laughed amongst themselves. He enjoyed cooking, always had, and he had no problem making all the food, as long as someone else did the dishes. Once he'd managed to carry all of the ingredients he placed them on the floor in front of the counter, and began to assemble them on the tile. Enjolras whistled a soft tune, completely unaware of Combeferre's eyes digging into his skin. "Enjolras, is everything okay?" The guide asked, standing up and walking over to him.

Enjolras smiled up at him, abandoning his sandwiches. "I'm just fine! Why do you ask?" He asked and tried to stand up before grasping the side of his head and gasping. "I-I think the house is spinning." He mumbled almost inaudibly before blacking out.

-ooo-

Cosette sat alone in the cafe behind the piano. Her fingers dancing methodically along the keys, forming a song she knew by heart, but didn't understand the meaning of. A sharp there, a flat here, shaped the random array of notes into a beautiful piece of music that filled the empty cafe. Her eyes closed as the end of the piece approached, and when her finger hit the last note she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Hey that was great!" Cosette jumped at the foreign voice, looking around the room in confusion. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's just me!" Marius emerged from the doorway, where he'd been standing in the shadows, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Don't shoot!"

"Marius! Why are you here?" She asked angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't be such a creeper!"

The boy let out a laugh and walked over to the piano. "Don't freak out, I'm here everyday. My Dad owns the cafe, I listen to you play every morning, and you're really good!"

"Like I said, don’t be a creeper!" Cosette collected her sheet music and stuffed it into her bag. "Goodbye Marius." She nodded curtly to the boy before quickly leaving the shop, and walking out into the cold January morning.

The boy sat down at the piano and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Well you fucked that one up Pontmercy." He muttered to himself, dropping his head to the piano, resulting in an unmusical clash of notes, which bounced around the now empty cafe.

-ooo- 

Combeferre sat in the car, his head on the steering wheel. "It's happening again." He muttered as Enjolras walked into the doctor's office. It had been 4 years since he'd gone to see Dr.Lamarque for the last time, and he'd seemed to be improving. But yesterday when Enjolras had passed out while making sandwiches on the floor the Amis had decided the best thing to do was take him in.

"I don't need to go!" Enjolras protested crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm fine."

Combeferre shook his head, "That wasn't the actions of a healthy person, we need to get you help." 

 After their argument there hadn't been much of a fight to get Enjolras to the psychopharmacologist's office. He'd been silent through the whole car ride, staring out the window the entire time, ignoring Combeferre completely. "I'm not crazy." He muttered as he'd gotten out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

#Is he really the crazy one?# Combeferre texted Jehan absent-mindedly, not realizing the gravity of his question.

A response came a few moments later, #What do you mean?#

He typed back quickly, #Like, we all had a hard time with it. But who's really crazy one? Is it him? He sees doctors. Or is it us? We're still hoping he'll come back to us, just waiting in the car.#

There was a few minutes that passed before Jehan texted back, #I don't know.#

-ooo-

Enjolras walked stiffly into the waiting room of the office, sitting down in the patterned seats. The room smelled of cleaner, and made his skin crawl. Fisting a hand into his hair he leaned back against the wall, sighing deeply. "Enjolras?" The nurse called softly into the room from the doorway. He stood, nodding at her. "Dr.Lamarque can see you now." She flashed bright white teeth at him as they walked down the long hallway, past the rooms filled with psychiatric patients. "Here we are!" They stopped at one of the rooms, inside was only a chair, table and the classic therapist couch. "He should be in, in a moment."

He gave her a half-hearted smile before entering the room and laying down on the couch. The ceiling had that odd popcorn on it, That stuff causes lung cancer! he vaguely remembered Joly's warning about it. The couch was a bit too soft, and he felt on edge despite the many posters they had passes that urged him to Just hang on! or reminded him that Tomorrow is a brand new day! He hated those overly encouraging signs in such a dismal place.

The click of the door and squeak of shoes on the linoleum floor drew him from his daydreaming. "Well, you haven't been in in a while!" Dr. Lamarque crossed the room and sat down in his chair. "How have you been Enjolras?"

"Fine." He answered simply, playing with the edge of his shirt, not looking the grey haired doctor in the eyes.

The familiar sound of a pen on a clipboard seemed to be drilling into his head, "You're fine. Okay, so your friends just decided it was time for you to see me? Or did something happen?"

Enjolras could feel the accusing look being shot in his direction by the elderly man. "I may have blacked out." The scratch of the pen resumed for a while. "But it was nothing. They over reacted. I'm fine." He reiterated his previous statement more firmly.

"Well, I talked to your friend Combeferre over the phone. And he told me what happened."

"Fuck." He muttered angrily, balling his hands into fists as his sides.

"Excuse me?" 

"Nothing."

Dr. Lamarque cocked an eyebrow at him, "Alright, here are some pills that might help." He handed Enjolras a bag filled with little bottles of pills of every shape, size and color. "The round blue ones with food, but not with the oblong white ones. The purple ones with the square yellow ones, but not the trapezoidal green ones. Split the orange ones into thirds and take then just before bed, and at noon. Use a mortar and pestle to grind the hexagonal brown ones into a fine powder which-"

Combeferre knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Hey, you guys almost done?"

"Yes, we just finished up." The doctor stood, and shook Combeferre's hand. "Be back in one week for possible prescription adjustments."

-ooo-

"J. Enjolras, bipolar depressive with delusional episodes. 5-year history of medication. Adjustment after one week." The doctor read from his clipboard, and then looked over his glasses at Enjolras. "So, anything you've noticed that's changed?"

Enjolras fidgeted on the couch for a moment, trying to get comfortable. "Well, I've got less anxiety but, I have headaches, blurry vision, and I can't feel my fingers. They just have this odd warm sensation, and it's spreading up my arms. But other than that I'm fantastic." He replied flatly, staring at the ceiling.

The pen scratched on the clipboard again, "Okay, we'll stop this one." He muttered to himself, "And start on this. Okay, come back in two weeks. We just keep trying until we get it right, right?"

Enjolras stood, taking the bag of pills again, "Not a very exact science is it?" He asked before leaving the room, and going out to the car where Combeferre waited. 

-ooo-

"Zoloft, Paxil, and Buspar." Courfeyrac read the names of the pills aloud while Feuilly recorded them in a notebook. They had this odd routine of cataloging everything Enjolras was taking to make sure they wouldn't cause something bad if  they were mixed together.

"Side effects?" Feuilly asked, finishing the R on Buspar.

Courfeyrac turned the bottles, making the pills shake around inside. "Um, headaches, tremors, nightmares, irritability, nausea, vomiting, and seizures..."

 -ooo-

"J. Enjolras, second adjustment after three weeks. Delusions less frequent, but depressive state worse." 

"I'm always tired, and the numbness has started in my feet, but it's gone in my hands. I'm nauseous, and have no appetite at all."

Dr Lamarque made more notes before giving him more pills. "Thanks doctor, Valium is my favorite color. How's you know?" Enjolras deadpanned as he left the office for the third time that month. Each time came with new pills, and more complicated questions from his friends.

-ooo-

"Xanex, Depacon, Chronaphin." Courfeyrac continued reading the names.

Feuilly responded with his usual question, "Side effects?"

"Constipation, nervous laughter, palpitations, anxiousness, anger, exhaustion, insomnia, and sexual dysfunction..."

-ooo-

"J. Enjolras, third adjustment after five weeks. Reports continue: mild anxiety and some lingering depression."

"I can't sleep, I laugh at odd times even when I feel like crying. I now can't feel my fingers or my toes. I sweat for no reason." Enjolras continued after a long pause, "And I'm constantly horny."

-ooo-

"Ambien, Prozac, and Ativan." 

"Side effects?"

"Extreme sexual feelings, temporary blindness, and jaundice."

"That's it?" Feuilly asked, capping his pen, ready to close the notebook.

Courfeyrac shook his head, "There's one more." He swallowed before continuing. "Use may be fatal."

-ooo-

Dr. Lamarque uncapped his pen, preparing his paper on the clipboard like he did each time. "J. Enjolras, seven weeks."

"I don't feel like myself." Enjolras whispered, staring blankly at the all too familiar ceiling that he'd come to know over the last two months. "I don't feel anything."

The doctor made a mark on the paper, and smiled at the golden haired boy. "Patient stable."  


End file.
